


A Request

by loadedcasserole



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Predacons Rising (Prime Movie), Robots Being Spiritual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 12:41:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3768967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loadedcasserole/pseuds/loadedcasserole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One mech isn't so thrilled about the miraculous return of Optimus Prime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Request

Optimus turned at a call from behind, curious. It was fast approaching the end of the day and most of everyone pooled to the far side of the ship, recreation or recharge in mind.

He himself had similar thoughts on his processor.

“Knock Out,” he acknowledged. “Will you be joining us today?”

Red optics shifted minutely. “Perhaps when I’ve finished piecing a fuel pump together. We don’t have quality spares and the life support system needs work. Not something you want to go into surgery without.”

Likely not then.

It had been rare to see the medic recently. Knock Out spent increasing time in the medbay and labs, working on projects put forth to him, and an extra few of his own.

A fact that was beginning to show on his features.

He did not condone overworking mechs, everyone needed downtime, but on occasion, he considered the Autobots to be very fortunate to have two hard-working medics.

“Were you requiring something?”

“Yes,” Knock Out said stiffly, “I wanted to ask if Wheeljack returned with those soil samples.”

It was an odd question, considering that Wheeljack had earlier stated he was on the way to inform the red mech. The wrecker had spent the better part of the day gathering bits of dirt, after all. A long time to simply forget.

After a moment’s thought, Optimus answered, “He did. I believe he set them temporarily in the mess hall.”

“I’ll have them analyzed then.”

“Good. However, it can wait until tomorrow. You should take rest.”

At Knock Out’s slow blink, he turned to leave. He was beginning to feel the edges of exhaustion himself. More than combat, he was finding that there was no bottom to the energy-loss their efforts of reconstruction created. It was much harder to piece something together than destroy.

“I need to speak with you,” Knock Out said, in a whisper he almost missed, “In private.”

So this was about something else entirely.

The medic looked uncomfortable at best. Optimus gestured to a nearby door and led the smaller mech inside.

It was a large enough space, he found within, walls lined with boxes and shelves. He had yet to explore the entirety of the Nemesis and had half-expected a cramped storage closet.

“What did you have to discuss?” he asked, curious.

“It’s about,” Knock Out paused, “How you passed.”

Ah, a familiar topic, although not one Knock Out had previously shown much interest in. There were quite a few things about the event he didn’t understand himself. He had been asked questions by Ratchet every day since he had returned and neither had gained much insight from his accounting and tests given.

“I am sorry to say that I do not have many answers on it.” And it was a sorry thing indeed. So many had passed that could better contribute to a peaceful era and instead Cybertron insisted on the presence of a war-time Prime.

“That’s quite alright. I don’t care about how it felt or even how it occurred. Fascinating as that would normally be, I have much doubt anyone could recreate the incident,” Knock Out spat, then added, “I need to know of something more– abstract.”

“Abstract,” Optimus repeated, his mind branching off into areas where this could be leading to.

Knock Out gained an eager light in his optics that he didn’t feel was entirely scientific. “Perhaps there is something about your experience that you wouldn’t normally share. Due to its, ah, _spiritual qualities_.”

Knock Out didn’t strike Optimus as a particularly religious sort, it was a surprising trait in a Decepticon, but he had thought wrongly of many other mechs before.

“You would like to know if I had a vision?”

“Did you?”

He weighed his response carefully. It would be welcome to all concerned if he had a better answer, but all he could reply with was, “No.”

The medic vented a sigh and took a seat on a nearby crate, leaning into the wall. He looked more drained than Optimus had ever witnessed. The faint scratches and matte paint on his finish stood out more with the limp posture. He would never say that vanity was all there was about Knock Out, but it was a strong trait in the former Decepticon.

He settled onto a nearby crate, concern mounting.

“You’ve had visions before. Claimed anyway,” Knock Out muttered, staring at the far wall.

“They are somewhat rare. Most frequently, I consider them as dreams until they are proved otherwise.”

“Do you dream of the dead?”

He frowned. He had received similar questions before, most recently from Arcee. They were grim conversations that always hurt just as much as they could help.

There had been a time when he received them with stunning frequency, and it pained to know the reason for the shortage was that they had so few living. Fewer to die and fewer to mourn those deaths.

More often than not, he could only offer his consolation and company, and hope it was enough.

“Sometimes,” Optimus said. “Likely not in the way you are hoping.”

Knock Out sat silently.

Optimus ventured, “One day, Bulkhead returned to base and said there was a human, one we have had past dealings with, controlling Breakdown. He looked a mess, were his words. No one among us has seen him since.”

Vents hitched softly next to him, but the medic’s face hardly moved.

They hadn’t put much thought into Breakdown’s absence since then. After months without an appearance, they had shunted the last battle aside in favor of more pressing matters. At the time, they had considered Breakdown to be merely puppeted. After all, humans had shown that they could make their own mechanisms to control. Why use a Cybertronian unless you needed them alive?

What barbarity had they dealt with without realizing?

“I have had no dreams, or otherwise, of Breakdown.”

“I thought not. There’s little reason to think on your enemies.”

And yet, despite these thoughts, he had still asked.

Optimus placed a hand on Knock Out’s shoulder. The smaller mech twitched uncomfortably at the contact, but didn’t move away.

He disagreed. “I think of many. Some old friends chose a different side in the beginning, and there have been many good mechs in the Decepticon ranks. Ones that did not deserve a short end. I did not know Breakdown personally, but I am sorry he is not here today.”

“Primus brought you back,” Knock Out stated distantly. “He favors you. That’s why you’re a Prime.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. His resurrection, while being well received to his comrades, must have been a great insult to the medic. The life of a Prime, who had chosen his demise, as opposed to a murdered companion, robbed of his time. It was no wonder he was so troubled.

It was a reality he had not given much thought. It was doubtless that the others were missing some past losses, but he had not considered how they might feel slighted by the event.

Perhaps he should talk with Arcee later.

Knock Out mused, “Do you think it would be possible to send a message? I’ve tried, but I don’t think it works.”

“We could try,” he conceded, little good it would likely do. The medic needed some form of closure, however, and so he would do all he could to provide. “And if you would like, we could have a memorial.”

Knock Out stood, shoulder slipping from his grasp. “No. No I’ve already- ah. It’s fine. Let me just compile something. I’ll get it to you in about-“

“Take your time. I am not going to change my mind.”

A shaking smile was flashed his way. “Alright. I’ll contact you. It’s- appreciated.”

A quick bow and he strided out the door, leaving Optimus feeling honoured at the trust placed on him. He would make it a point to visit the red mech throughout the weeks.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Knock Out's previous messages included swearing and throwing rocks into the Well.


End file.
